


The Queen, Her Friend, and the New Kid

by TheInkredibleKaptainKaiju



Category: Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Canon Divergent, Chandler and Duke are decent people deep down, F/M, JD isn't a psycho, Road Trip!, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, and by that I mean they're on the lam, at least not entirely, but that part comes later, character examination
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:27:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27980748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheInkredibleKaptainKaiju/pseuds/TheInkredibleKaptainKaiju
Summary: Why did it seem like whenever Veronica did something, it always spiraled out of control? It started as helping Heather Chandler fake her suicide, but quickly turned into the three of them on the run for murder--a real one. Between avoiding the cops and trying not to kill each other, they have their work cut out for them. But maybe, just maybe, some good can come of this.
Relationships: Heather Chandler & Jason "J. D." Dean, Heather Chandler & Veronica Sawyer, Jason "J. D." Dean/Veronica Sawyer
Comments: 6
Kudos: 34





	1. No-One Thinks a Pretty Girl Has Feelings

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little bit of clarification before we begin: while this will be largely based on the musical, as I haven't seen the movie, I will be taking a few plot points from the movie, like the Remington party. Feel free to ask for clarification if you need it, but now, let's get on with it already!

**The Queen, Her Friend, and the New Kid**

Chapter One: No-One Thinks a Pretty Girl Has Feelings

* * *

“Fucking Remington assholes…”

It wasn’t easy, but Heather Chandler had made it the entire ride back to her place without falling apart. No, falling apart wasn’t the right word for it--more like showing the tiniest hint of vulnerability, the smallest chink in her armor. She couldn’t afford to show weakness even alone, let alone in the middle of a crowded party. Or even in front of Heather and Heather.

Her head still spinning, she staggered towards the stairs, not wanting to do anything else tonight except pass out on her bed. She was dreading the hangover she would have in the morning. Chandler was no stranger to the bottle, but she had drank more than she usually had at that party--though admittedly, much of that was to get the taste out of her mouth.

As usual, her parents were nowhere to be found, which she could read either as a good or bad thing. They were either asleep, which would make sense, given the time, or they were out, which would also make sense, given who they were. Even if they were here, they wouldn’t have cared what Heather had been up to. Again, either a good or bad thing.

Heather’s hand gripped the rail, but she stood where she was, frozen at the bottom of the stairs. The taste of cheap booze and jello shots had faded from her tongue, leaving behind something that was somehow even more bitter. She grimaced, making her way over to the kitchen to find something to wash it out with.

It wasn’t like she hadn’t done something like that before, even with an older guy. So why did she feel so...vulnerable? Maybe it was doing this for the past three years finally adding up. Or maybe it was that self-satisfied look on his face after she had finished. That smug grin, like a hunter that had just bagged a prize buck. She had been such a catch to that smarmy son of a bitch.

Opening the fridge, she pulled the cap off a carton of orange juice and drank like she had been lost in the desert for days. Christ, what would everyone think if they could see the great Heather Chandler now? Sucking down juice straight from the carton like a grimy bum. She grimaced--she  _ really _ didn’t want to think about sucking right now.

Once the tang of the juice had replaced the unspeakable flavor, Heather allowed herself to sink a little further. She sat down on the kitchen floor, resting her head on her knees with her back against the fridge door. For a moment, she just sat there, listening to herself breathe. It wasn’t the event itself that affected her so much--it was more the knowledge that this was far from the last time she would be used like this.

When she had told Veronica that everyone wanted her for a friend or a fuck, she hadn’t meant that those were the  _ only _ reasons people wanted her. But lately, she had begun to realize that it was true. And aside from Duke and Ronnie, nobody had ever approached her to ask to be her friend.

It was then that a familiar thought forced its way into her head once again.  _ No _ , she thought, trying to shake it off.  _ I’m not doing that. I...I’m not… _

Despite herself, she slowly reached under the sink, bringing out the bottle of drain cleaner. It was a ritual she was all-too-familiar with by now: take out the bottle, stare at it for a little bit, before deciding that it wasn’t worth it. And yet, no matter how decisively she shoved it back under the sink each time, she always found herself considering it again. One mouthful, and all her problems would be over. She would no longer be Heather Chandler, Demon Queen of Westerburg, the girl who everyone loved, but nobody liked. Who, despite her status within the school walls, was nothing more than a status symbol outside of them. Who nobody would hesitate to stab in the back to take her place.

With a quivering hand, she threw the bottle of blue poison across the room, where it landed with a clatter. If mom and dad were home, they didn’t wake up. She stomped over to the stairs, and made her way up to her room. That familiar internal battle raged, even more fiercely tonight.  _ I’m not going to kill myself _ , she protested.  _ I’m too good for that. I’m not just going to throw away everything I’ve worked for. If I died, people would...they might finally realize what I am… _

Midway up the stairs, Heather stopped. She let out a groan of frustration, before returning the way she came. Back in the kitchen, she picked up the bottle of Drain-o.

_ Just in case _ , she thought, before resuming her ascent to her room. She’d have to mix it with something, of course. There’s no way it would taste great going down. Not that it would matter, what with it killing her and all. The taste wouldn’t last for long. Still, she’d always had a sensitive palate, and wanted her last moments to taste like something at least a bit better. Most likely something with alcohol.

Before slipping into a nightgown, she stashed the bottle under her mattress, hoping that the desire to use it wouldn’t come back. But she knew better. She lay down her head, hoping that tomorrow would be better.

_ This sucks. Everything sucks _ , she thought.  _ At least I’ll be able to take it out on Veronica. Fucking Veronica--I gave her everything, and how does she repay me? Puking all over my shoes! _ Despite how angry the memory made her, she smiled, glad to feel something other than powerlessness.  _ If she wants back in with us, she’d better work for it. I think I’m going to  _ enjoy _ making her squirm. _

Whenever Heather could exert her dominance over someone else, she didn’t have to think about how out of her league she was everywhere but Westerburg. And having betrayed her, Veronica had made herself a perfect target. She continued to seethe over the other girl, her pain forgotten.

_ And not only that, but she threw a perfectly good prank into the pool, just like that! Doesn’t she want to be a Heather? Apparently not, what with how she blatantly refused to give that guy _ \--

And just like that, it all came back. At that party, Veronica had proved that she had standards. Unlike Heather. Heather would do anything,  _ let _ anything be done  _ to _ her, just to cling to what little power she actually possessed. The full weight of it all finally hit her, and she couldn’t stop her tears. She clung to her pillow and cried, ashamed at her display of weakness even if no-one was around. She shivered at the knowledge that despite all her bluster, the Demon Queen of Westerburg was little more than a terrified girl.

What would Veronica think if she saw her like this?


	2. Teenage Suicide (Don't do it)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veronica heads over to Heather's to apologize for the previous night, and stops her from making a mistake.

Chapter Two: Teenage Suicide (Don’t do it)

* * *

“Listen...are you sure you want to do this?”

“Hmm?” Veronica looked up at JD. The two had been walking down the street on the cloudy morning in relative silence until he had asked his question. “Do what, apologize?”

“See her at all,” the boy in the trenchcoat replied. “Heather’s got you under her thumb, you do realize that, right? She treats you like a servant, she threatened to murder you socially last night, which gave you a nightmare--and _she’s_ making _you_ apologize. What kind of a friend is that?”

“I know, but...it’s…” Veronica struggled to describe her relationship with Heather. “We aren’t exactly friends, we’re more like...people who work together. I know she can be…”

“A bitch?”

“...Yeah, a bitch. But I need her. I need all of them. Before I became a Heather, I was just another nerd, another target. Insufferable as she can be, putting up with her is a lot better than putting up with slapped lunch trays and being ‘accidentally’ tripped in the halls.”

JD was quiet for a moment. “Why put up with either?” he asked.

“What’s that mean?” asked Veronica.

“It just means that there’s too many assholes in the world not to do anything,” said JD. “I don’t understand how you can just...take it.”

“Who says I did?” said Veronica, casting him a glance. “It’s not like anyone would listen to me anyway. I weigh eighty pounds soaking wet, my family’s middle-class suburban, and before I met the three of them, I was nothing to write home about.”

“Well, I wouldn’t exactly--”

Veronica cut him off. “But now that I’m a Heather, none of that matters. It doesn’t matter that I’m not rich, not powerful, not...pretty. When I run with them, nobody looks at me and sees an easy target anymore. It’s a ‘lesser of two evils’ type thing.

“Huh. I didn’t peg you for the cynical type,” said JD.

Veronica shrugged. “It is what it is. But hey, thanks for coming along.”

“I wasn’t about to let you confront the ‘Mythic Bitch’ alone,” replied JD. “Who would I be if I just left my girlfriend to get crucified?”

“So...I’m your girlfriend?” said Veronica, brushing her hair out of her eyes.

JD let out something that could almost be considered a chuckle. “You snuck into my bedroom last night for sex. If that doesn’t make you my girlfriend, I don’t know what does.”

All things considered, Veronica noticed, the two of them were in remarkably good spirits. She supposed losing your v-card did that to a person. “This probably won’t take very long. She’ll probably just make me grovel for a bit, and then I’ll be free. Maybe we could go somewhere, make this official? Catch a movie, get something to eat?”

“I _did_ have plans to sit around, staring at the wall,” said JD, “but for you, I think I can make some time. I’ve got an idea of where we could go.”

Veronica laughed, playfully shoving him. “If you say we’re going to Seven-Eleven for our first date, I’m calling this whole thing off!”

“Dammit, there goes my whole plan!” said JD, smiling.

* * *

“Her car’s here, that’s a good sign,” said Veronica.

“Her parents’ cars aren’t here, that’s a _better_ sign,” said JD.

“Don’t think it would matter even if they were,” Veronica said. “At this point, I doubt they don’t know, or care, what their daughter gets up to.”

“How admirable,” JD noted.

The two stood outside the Chandlers’ lavish home. Located at the top of the designated ‘rich peoples’ hill,’ the garish almost-mansion was easily the largest of the large.

“Might as well rip this band-aid off now,” Veronica grumbled. She knocked on the front door. “Heather? It’s Veronica! ...Are you ignoring me?” She knocked again, waiting for a response. With no answer, she turned back to JD. “I’ll admit, I hadn’t anticipated this.”

“Leave this to me.” JD reached into his pocket, producing a clothespin. Within seconds of fiddling with the lock, the door swung open. “ _Entrez-vous_!”

Veronica blinked. “Where did you learn to...nevermind, don’t care.” She stepped inside, and was immediately struck with how... _rich_ the place looked. Untouched furniture, velvet drapes, and a Persian rug that looked straight out of an honest-to-God palace. She was surprised that nothing seemed to be made out of gold.

JD rolled his eyes. “This place reeks of old money. What, do her parents run the mob or something?”

“Not as far as I know. I think one of her great-granddads was an oil baron or something.” Veronica strolled into the living room, not seeing her frenemy anywhere. “Heather?” she called. “It’s Veronica! I’m sorry about last night!” Silence. “I know you’re here, your car’s still in the driveway!”

“‘M up here!” came a growl from upstairs. “Just shut up already!”

“And the queen makes herself known,” Veronica said quietly. She made her way up the stairs, JD close behind. “At least we caught her in a good mood…”

“From what I’ve seen of her, this _is_ her in a good mood,” added JD.

“The sad thing is, that’s probably true.” Upon reaching the second floor, Veronica opened the door to Chandler’s room. “Heather?” She was greeted to the sight of a Chandler-shaped lump on the girl’s bed, completely covered by her blanket.

“What did I say about _yelling_!” she groaned.

“Sorry, sorry,” Veronica said, her head tilted down as she entered the room. “Actually, that’s why I came. About last night--”

Yeah yeah yeah, save it,” snapped Heather. Her face peeked out from under the covers. “How did you even…” She spotted JD behind Veronica. “Oh. That makes sense. You brought Jesse James.”

“Oh, right,” said Veronica. “Heather, this is JD. We’re kinda-sorta...together now. JD, Heather Chandler.”

JD nodded, miming tipping a hat. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Goddamn right it is,” she mumbled, hiding back under her blankets. “If you really want me to forgive you, you and DJ can go mix up something for this hangover. I’ll _consider_ letting you live on monday if it works.”

“Y-yeah, sure, I can do that!” said Veronica, before shaking her head at JD. “Just wait here, I’ll go get something ready!”

As Veronica and her new boy-toy left, Heather rolled her eyes. ‘Wait here?’ Where exactly did she expect her to go, Hoboken? She groaned, rubbing her forehead--her headache made it almost impossible to think. Something she didn’t have to think about, however, was that she didn’t feel any better. She had thought that maybe she would feel better in the morning, at least emotionally, but she felt just as shitty as she had then. And if anything, laying into Veronica just made her feel worse. She almost didn’t notice her grip on her forehead getting tighter.

 _Worthless. Cruel. Just a pretty face, and nothing more_. Almost subconsciously, her free hand reached below her mattress.

* * *

Veronica paced back and forth down in the kitchen. “‘Mix up something’ for her hangover? What did she have in mind? I’ve only been hung over a few times before, and some coffee and a hot bath usually did the trick. Is...is that what she’s asking for? ...Okay, you see if they have a coffee maker, I’ll go get the water running.”

“I’ve got a better idea,” said JD, walking over to the fridge. “Having a father like mine teaches you a thing or two about making hangover cures.”

Veronica leaned against the wall. “Is there anything you _can’t_ do, wonder-boy?”

“If there is, I have yet to find it,” he said with a smirk. He opened a carton of orange juice to find that only a drop was left. “Hmm. No OJ. Guess we’re improvising.”

Nearby, Veronica was deep in thought. “So...I’ve been wondering…”

“Yeah?” said JD, cracking an egg over a cup of milk.

“So, what we were saying about Heather earlier. I think we can both agree that the bitch upstairs isn’t exactly a good person.”

“Really? She seems like a real peach to me.”

“Ha-ha. But anyway, I was wondering, does that extend to Heather, too? Because--”

“You’ll have to be a bit more specific,” said JD. “I don’t have that secret language you four have, where you can tell the three of them apart just by context. To me, ‘Heather’ could be either the red smug one, the green grouchy one, or the yellow dumb one.”

“Heather isn’t dumb,” said Veronica, despite smiling at JD’s mostly-accurate descriptions. “She’s just...not always there all the time.”

“So, do you mean mellow yellow or mean green?”

“Yellow, Heather McNamara,” Veronica continued. “She’s definitely a Heather, but from what I’ve seen, she isn’t really that bad when she isn’t with Chandler. And I guess Heather Duke isn’t, either.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” said JD. “But maybe that’s because I always see them together.”

“That’s what I mean,” said Veronica. “Assuming the two of them are only bad when they’re with Chandler--which I don’t know for sure is true--does that make them bad people, too?”

JD shrugged. “It’s their choice who they associate with.”

“Then...what about me?”

He paused, looking away from his concoction. “Pardon?”

“ _I_ chose to associate with the Heathers. I...I left my best friend behind. Does that make me a bad person? I’m not...I won’t be mad if you say yes, I’m just wondering.”

At first, JD wasn’t sure how to respond. “I…” Eventually, he made his way over to Veronica, placing his arms around her. “You’re not a bad person, Veronica. You’re one of the best people I know.”

Veronica grinned weakly, returning his hug. “I don’t know if that says more about you, or about me.”

“Hey...remember what you told me last night? Why Heather was mad at you in the first place?”

“‘Cause I threw a pig in the pool,” Veronica replied, her grin growing more earnest.

“Exactly. The three of them were picking on Martha, and you stood up for her. And you knew they would be mad about it. That doesn’t sound like a bad person to me.”

“Yeah…” Veronica agreed. “But none of this would have happened if I never met the Heathers in the first place.”

“Hmm...well, what did they tell you about Martha a while back?” asked JD.

“That she’d leave me to rot if she had my chance,” answered Veronica.

“And there you go. Maybe not Martha exactly, but sooner or later, someone else would have become the fourth Heather. Thank God it’s someone with a conscience. It’s like you said: the lesser of two evils.”

“Yeah...yeah, I guess you’re right.” Veronica looked up at her boyfriend. “Thanks, JD.”

“Anything for a kindred soul.” The two shared a brief kiss, before JD went to finish up work on the cure.

“Maybe it _is_ a good thing I became a Heather,” Veronica pondered aloud. “They could use someone with half a moral compass.”

“That’s the spirit,” said JD, rooting around underneath the kitchen sink. “With a little time, I’m sure you’ll--What kind of people don’t keep drain cleaner under here?”

“Drain cleaner? The hell do you need drain cleaner for?” Veronica asked.

“What else?” JD said, nodding to the cup. “Trust me, nothing ends a hangover like Drain-o.

“Yeah, nothing ends a life like Drain-o, either,” said Veronica. “I’m not exactly fond of Heather, but I don’t want her dead.”

 _“Veronicaaaa! Hurry uuuuuup_!”

“...Not that much, at least.”

“Just as well, there’s nothing down here anyway,” said JD. He took a moment to work up a glob of phlegm, before dropping it into Heather’s drink. “That should just about do it. Let’s go give the baby her bottle.”

Veronica took the cup, following JD’s example and hocking a loogie into it. That would suffice for some revenge, she thought.

* * *

Heather looked up to see Veronica holding out a cup, smiling.

“Surprise!” she said. “Sorry for ruining your prank and ralphing on your shoes!”

“Mmm.” Heather sat up, taking the cup from her. “Thanks.”

“So…” Veronica said. “…Does this mean all is forgiven?”

“Maybe. I don’t know.” Usually, it was Veronica that would be made to avoid Heather’s eyes, but this time it was the opposite. Heather barely so much as acknowledged her--which wouldn’t be out of character before Veronica had joined her posse, but since then, Heather wouldn’t waste the chance to accost her.

“Are you...feeling alright?” asked Veronica. “You’re a lot less crabby than usual.”

“Hangover,” said Heather, gesturing to her head and the cup. “...You can go now.”

Veronica looked around. “Just like that? You’re not gonna make me beg for my position back, or...?”

“No. I’m...Look, just go.” Although Veronica was concerned, she wasn’t about to make things worse by questioning Heather. She made her way to the door, not taking her eyes off of the girl in case this was a trap.

“So, I’ll see you on monday, then?”

Heather nodded. “Mm-hmm,” she said sadly.

With no reason not to, Veronica stepped out of Heather’s room and into the hallway, where JD was waiting for her. “That was weird,” he noticed.

“ _Really_ weird,” said Veronica. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Heather act like that. It’s like she was...afraid of something.”

“She must not be used to feeling human emotions,” JD suggested. “Maybe gratitude, maybe guilt. Either way, this probably means you’re forgiven.”

Veronica didn’t answer, being too deep in thought. She stopped walking just before the stairs--something here didn’t add up. Sure, maybe JD was right, and Heather was just grateful, or guilty. She obviously didn’t want to show something like that, but why didn’t she hide it behind insults, like she usually did? None of this was sitting right.

Eventually, Veronica registered that JD had been tapping her shoulder to get her attention. “Veronica? Veronica, come in. Is there anything wrong up there on the station?”

Shaken back to reality, Veronica looked up to face him. “Something’s wrong,” she said. “I’m worried about Heather.”

“Something definitely is wrong with her,” he said. “But you weren’t worried then, what’s different?”

“What’s different is she’s not acting like herself,” Veronica said.

“And that’s a _bad_ thing?”

“Look, I…” Veronica walked back down to Heather’s room. “Wait here, I’ll just be a minute.”

JD didn’t protest as Veronica passed him, instead looking to her with equal concern. He didn’t understand why she was worried about Heather, but if she was, then he was too. He followed after her.

Veronica timidly opened the door. “Heather?” she said. “Are you sure everything’s alright, because--” She trailed off at the sight she was greeted by. With trembling hands, Heather held both the cup, and a bottle of drain cleaner in the other. She had either just poured it in, or was about to when she was interrupted. Her face was a mixture of fear and resignation, until she noticed that Veronica had appeared, when it changed to a familiar look of anger.

“What the hell are you _doing_ !?” she shrieked, leaping to her feet. “ _Get out_!”

“Wh...I...uh…” Veronica had not quite processed what was going on, was mostly just confused. “What are _you_ doing?”

“I said _get OUT_ !” Heather threw both cup and bottle to the floor, storming over to Veronica and attempting to shove her out the door. “ _GET OUT! GET OUT OF MY ROOM! LEAVE ME ALONE!_ ”

Veronica, however, stood her ground. “Heather, what the _fuck_!? Were you seriously about to drink that stuff!?”

JD had appeared behind her, silently watching the commotion. He noticed the bottle of drain cleaner on the carpet. “Huh, so that’s where she keeps it.”

What was going on with Heather and Veronica now was less of a fight, and barely even a struggle. To stop Heather from shoving her, Veronica had grabbed her wrists, and she did little to free herself. She instead stared at the floor, her screams of anger having diminished into quiet muttering. “Go away, leave me alone…”

“Heather, what is going _on_ here?” asked Veronica. “Were you...were you about to kill yourself!?”

And then Heather broke down. Unable to hold it together any longer, she fell to her knees, quiet sobs escaping from her chest. Neither Veronica nor JD knew what to make of this: Heather Chandler, the almighty, in such a state. It was as perplexing as it was sorrowful.

“I’ll admit, this isn’t the reaction I was expecting,” Veronica whispered to JD. He was silent, likely thinking the same thing. She knelt down to comfort her crying frenemy, but wasn’t sure where to start. “Um...there, there,” she said, awkwardly patting Heather on the shoulder. Although it was only slight, Heather seemed to relax slightly.

“What’s wrong with me?” she said quietly, through her sobs.

“...Well, I was kind of hoping you could tell me,” said Veronica. She inched closer, placing an arm across Heather’s back. As much as it seemed like it, there was no way this came out of nowhere. Someone didn’t just suddenly decide to kill themselves out of the blue. “Heather, did something happen?”

Heather looked up at her, a twinge of anger underneath her sadness. “Why are you still here?” she asked, almost accusingly.

“Because you were about to drink a drain cleaner mixer, blew up at me when I interrupted you, and then broke down in tears. Honestly, I’m sorta worried to leave you alone.”

“No, I mean...why do you _care_?” asked Heather. “You shouldn’t. Nobody should. I’m nothing.”

“That’s not true!” said Veronica. “You’re Heather Chandler, the most popular girl at Westerburg! Remember? Everyone wants you for a--”

“For a friend or a fuck, I _know_ !” she snapped. “But when was the last time anyone actually _wanted_ to be my friend? Not just for a favor, or to get into my pants?”

“Well, I…” Veronica stopped herself. Technically, she had approached Heather to ask a favor: one day sitting with them at lunch. It had evolved into something bigger from there, but she hadn’t intended it to. “What about Heather and Heather?”

Heather shook her head. “I’m nothing. I act like I’m hot shit, but I’m _nothing_ , Ronnie. I’m just a weak, cruel, pathetic--”

“Hey, enough!” said Veronica. She pulled Heather closer. “You can’t think like that!” She looked up at JD, who had been quiet through the whole thing. “JD, could you get her a glass of water?” Wordlessly, he nodded, and left the room.

“You should just leave,” said Heather. “It’ll be easier for both of us. We’ll pretend like none of this ever happened, and continue like normal on monday.”

“You can’t seriously think I’m just leaving after all of that,” said Veronica. “What kind of friend would I be if I just left you out to dry?”

“A better one than me…”

Veronica was about to protest, but realized she had a point. “So...how long has this been…?”

“A while.” Heather rubbed her eyes. “This shouldn’t be happening. I’m rich, I’m powerful, I’m popular, why do I feel like shit? Karma, I guess…”

“Look…” said Veronica. “I’ll be honest, people aren’t exactly exaggerating when they call you the Demon Queen of Westerburg. But throwing your life away isn’t going to solve any of that.”

Heather looked up at her. “Thanks…” she said, giving a genuine smile.

Veronica smiled as well. “That’s what frenemies are for.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be honest: did I handle this alright? Like, did it feel real or natural? I know Heathers isn't necessarily supposed to be taken entirely seriously, but I'd still like to know if I can write realistic drama without it feeling natural or forced. What do you think?


	3. The Her Inside of Her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veronica and JD help Heather fake a suicide note.

Chapter Three: The Her Inside of Her

* * *

After a few minutes of sitting on the floor with Veronica, Heather had calmed down a bit. She sat on her bed taking periodic sips from her glass of water. Veronica had refused to leave her side, and now sat beside her, her eyes fixed on her like a concerned mother.

“So…” JD eventually broke the silence. “Mind telling us what that was about?” He sat on a wicker chair nearby, squirming uncomfortably in his seat; he couldn’t help but feel like he was out of his element.

Heather looked up from her glass just long enough to shoot him a quick glare, before returning her attention to the water. She didn’t say anything, continuing to occasionally bring the glass up to her lips. JD and Veronica met eyes, each one silently conveying their very different feelings to the other.

“You know,” Veronica said gently, “sometimes it helps to talk about these things, to get them off your chest. I know you’re not exactly in a talking mood, but…”

Scowling, Heather set the glass down on her nightstand and began to pace the room. “What is there to talk about?” she said. “You saw me back there--you saw the real me.” She refused to meet either of their eyes. “Everything I have, everything I do, and I’m no better than all those other losers.”

“So, then, what prompted this? Why now?” asked Veronica. Her eyes widened. “It wasn’t because of me, was it? What I did at the party?”

“No, it wasn’t you,” Heather said, rolling her eyes. “Get over yourself. If anything, it’s everyone  _ else _ . When I’m at Westerburg, I run the place, but outside of it...I’m…” She didn’t finish the sentence, leaving the other two to fill it in with their imaginations.

“So, basically, you’re upset because people in the real world don’t grovel at your feet whenever you show up,” said JD.

“JD, please,” Veronica whispered.

“Basically,” Heather said, in a tone that indicated that she knew JD was being sarcastic. “People think that just because I’m pretty, I have it easy. But I know for a fact that nobody sees me as a person. I’m a pretty face or a symbol at best, and a sex toy at worst. It’s all so...I’m in too deep to change anything now.”

“A symbol?” asked JD.

“Oh, get off my ass,” Heather snapped. “You know...I represent the ruling class of Westerburg, but I don’t really matter. Like a mascot. Hence, a symbol.  _ Forgive me _ for not being particularly verbose.”

Slowly, Veronica got to her feet. “You said you’ve thought about this for a while,” she said. “How long…?”

Heather shook her head, sighing. “I don’t even know at this point. Sometimes it feels like a few months, sometimes a few years. Before I met you, though.” She walked over to the window, gazing out at the houses beyond. “I don’t remember the exact moment I realized nobody gave a shit about people like me, but I do remember that it pissed me off. For a while, I tried making everyone else as miserable as I was, and by the time I figured out it wasn’t working, that was it. My reputation was sealed.”

“So...this may not exactly be relevant,” said JD, “but...why drain cleaner? There has to be more pleasant ways to off yourself, why go with something like that?”

“It was supposed to be poetic,” Heather muttered. “Drain cleaner cleans out filth and gunk and shit, so I’d be using it to get rid of myself.” She groaned. “It worked better in my head, okay?”

“I’ll say,” JD added. “You realize that acting like a total tool all the time doesn’t exactly do a lot for your image, right?” Veronica shot him a look, but Heather didn’t seem to have heard him.

“And that’s another thing,” Heather said. “Killing myself was supposed to be a big ‘fuck you’ to everyone who thought of me like that. Whenever anyone would think of me, it wouldn’t be ‘Oh, there goes Heather, what a babe,’ or ‘Oh, there goes Heather, what a bitch.’ It would be ‘Heather killed herself, and it’s all our faults.’ Everyone would finally be as miserable as I am.” Heather scowled bitterly out the window.

“That wouldn’t fix any of  _ your _ problems, though,” Veronica said. She walked over and placed a hand on Heather’s shoulder, getting no reaction. “You wouldn’t be any more popular or cherished than usual, you’d just be dead. Even if people did change their tone about you, you wouldn’t be able to enjoy it.”

“Debatable. Depends on if there’s an afterlife or not,” Heather said.

“Well, afterlife or not, you’d be dead. And once you’re dead, it’s not like you can just decide to not be dead anymore on a whim,” said Veronica. “People might feel bad for a while, but then they’d move on. Most of them would forget about you. And given what I know about you, that’s the  _ last _ thing you’d want.”

“You know what I want?” said Heather. “I want people to know exactly how I feel. I want--”

“Then just tell them,” said JD.

“Shut up, DJ!” said Heather. “I imagine you’re not very informed when it comes to highschool politics, but it’s not that easy! I show even a little bit of weakness, and they’re all over me like hyenas. Why else do you think I act like such a bitch all the time?”

“I just figured you enjoyed it,” JD said. “So what exactly are you going to do? It’s not like you can just fake your suicide. Show up days later like ‘Hi everyone! So, turns out I couldn’t go through with it, so here I am! Did you all feel bad for me?’”

“Don’t be stupid,” Heather said. “Nobody would ever fall for something like that. Besides, I want people to know that they’re responsible, not...wait…” She fell silent, clearly deep in contemplation.

JD looked at her, shocked. “Don’t tell me you’re actually--”

“DJ, you might be onto something,” said Heather. “Veronica, you said that once I’m dead I can’t decide not to be, but what if I  _ could _ ?” She started pacing around the room excitedly. “Like, not literally, but what if I got everyone to  _ think _ I was dead, and then once they were all sad and mourning, I’d show back up! Everybody would feel guilty, and I’d be more popular than ever!”

“Or they’d be mad at you for faking your own suicide,” said JD.

“That’s the beauty of it--they wouldn’t know!” Heather continued. “I’d ‘kill myself’ so that I wouldn’t leave a body behind. Like, um...Veronica, help me out here.”

“Um...the river!” Veronica said, getting just as into it as Heather was. “You could pretend to jump into the river just outside of town! Loads of people kill themselves in rivers!”

“Veronica, you genius, I knew it was a good idea letting you join!” Heather said. “We won’t even need witnesses--I’ll just leave a pair of my shoes on the riverbank. People in Japan take their shoes off before committing suicide, so it could be something like that. Someone would find them, think I jumped in, and once they break the news, and everyone’s mourning me, I’ll come back! I’ll show up to my own funeral, soaking wet and shoeless, and say it didn’t work. We can spin this whole sob story about how I wanted to be treated better, and then everyone’ll love me again! It’s perfect!”

“Okay, that sounds good, but I don’t think we should base this whole thing on someone randomly stumbling across your shoes,” said Veronica. “We need something closer to home, like a-a suicide note. That’ll make the story more believable, anyway. You can tell everyone how you really feel, and all that stuff.”

As the two girls excitedly plotted to fake Chandler’s suicide, JD looked at them like they were crazy. Neither of them seemed to notice.

“I’m no good when it comes to writing crap like that,” said Heather. “...But you are! What do you have, like an A in English? And you can copy anyone’s handwriting--that settles it, you’ll be my ghostwriter!”

Veronica giggled at Heather’s accidental pun. “Alright, sounds good,” she said. “But wait...where exactly are you gonna stay during all of this?”

“Oh, shit, you're right,” Heather said, her train of thought pausing. “How about at your place? Your parents pretty much leave you alone, right?”

“Yeah, but they’re not stupid,” Veronica said. “They’d figure out something’s up eventually. Couldn’t you just stay with Heather or Heather?”

“No! This has to stay just between the three of us!” said Heather. “Heather and Heather are part of the equation, too. Come on, Ronnie, it’ll just be a couple days!”

Between Heather’s pleading gaze, and her own desire to see this through, Veronica caved. “Alright, you can stay with me. But you have to lay low--you’re supposed to be dead, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I know. Hold on, I’ll go and start packing, you two get started on my suicide note!” Looking happier than Veronica had seen her in a while, Heather left her room and headed downstairs.

JD, who had sat in silence for most of that ordeal, looked around with confusion. “Well,” he said. “That went from a zero to a sixty like” he snapped his fingers. “that. Where is this all coming from, exactly?”

“JD, can’t you see it?” said Veronica, taking his hands into her own. “This can make things better for everyone! Heather will be much happier, and when she is,” she leaned closer. “She won’t act like such a mega-bitch to everyone.”

“...Okay, I’ll admit, I do like the sound of that part,” JD said. “But how do you know this will turn out the way you’re planning?”

“I don’t, but I can hope, can’t I?” said Veronica, taking a sheet of paper from Heather’s nightstand. “Okay, help me get this thing started.”

JD thought for a moment. “How about ‘Life sucks, everything sucks, I hate you?’” he suggested. “Gets the point across pretty well.”

“Not bad,” Veronica said, “but this is Heather Chandler we’re talking about. She has a flair for the dramatic, so she’d want her last words to make an impression.”

“Then why not ask her?” said JD.

After a few minutes, Heather returned, holding a suitcase in one hand, and a pair of shoes in the other. “These ones aren’t my best pair, so it’ll be no big loss leaving them by the river. How’s the note coming?”

“Actually, we were hoping you could help us out,” said Veronica. “These are your problems, after all. What would you want to tell the world?”

“I don’t know, that’s why I asked you to write this for me!” Heather said, exasperated. “‘Everyone thinks being popular is easy, but it’s not.’ How about something like that?”

“That’s good, that’s good,” Veronica said, writing that down. “Okay, keep going.”

Heather glanced over at JD. “Feel free to chime in at any time, DJ,” she said.

JD thought for a moment. “Let’s see…’My problems were myriad.’”

“‘Myriad,’ nice,” said Heather, nodding in approval.

Veronica grinned, having just come up with a rhyme. “‘I was having my period.’” She cracked up at her own joke, to which JD smirked as well.

Heather rolled her eyes. “Oh, grow up, Veronica. This has to be something I’d actually write.”

“What, you wouldn’t say you were on your period?” said Veronica, still giggling.

“I do like the ‘myriad’ idea, though,” said Heather. “Put that down. Okay, what’s next?”

After about twenty minutes of brainstorming, the three of them had finally come up with a note that Heather deemed appropriate. “Okay,” she said, “read the whole thing back to me.”

Veronica looked down at her handiwork: Heather had said that she would think she wrote it herself if she didn’t know better, so that was a good sign. “Alright, here goes: ‘Everyone thinks being popular is easy, but it’s not. It may seem like I had everything, but in truth, I was left with a myriad of scars. Chief among them was the one thing I was lacking: genuine love from my family and peers. No-one thinks a pretty girl has feelings--such is the curse of popularity. My problems weighed heavy over my head, like a crown made of concrete. I was left with no other option to escape from them. Don’t bother looking for my body, as the current has likely swept it downriver by now. I die knowing nobody knew the real me.’ How’s that sound?”

“Perfect!” said Heather, lifting up her suitcase. “Just set it down on my bed, Mom or Dad will find it sometime later today. Oh, I can’t believe we’re doing this--this is going to be incredible!”

“I’m sure it’ll be amazing,” said JD. He stood up, and walked over to the window to open it.

“What’s the matter, is it too hot in here?” asked Heather.

“If we leave the window open, people will think you snuck out that way,” he explained. “You didn’t want to be seen. That will make the note more believable.”

“Ah, good thinking,” Heather said. She carried her suitcase over to the window, lifting her leg up to the sill, only to stop once she looked down. “On second thought, I think I’ll use the door, like a human. Meet you outside, Veronica!” She left the two alone once again.

“Well, this is probably the craziest thing I’ve ever done,” Veronica said. “This...this isn’t illegal, right? Like, we couldn’t get arrested for doing this, right?”

“I doubt it,” said JD. “And that’s assuming anyone figures out that we’re involved.”

“But what about Heather?” Veronica continued. “Like you said, people might be mad at her for faking her suicide.” She sighed, looking up at JD with distress in her eyes. “JD, are we...are we doing the right thing?”

“I wish I could answer that,” JD said, sitting down on Heather’s bed. Veronica sat next to him. “I don’t know if this is right, or wrong, or if those words even apply here. But I do know that Heather’s your friend, and you want to help her. I don’t know  _ why _ she’s your friend, but if you want to help her, then so do I.”

Veronica smiled. “Thanks, JD.” She leaned against his side. “Everything’s gonna work out just fine, right?”

“Right,” JD answered.

* * *

“So...what do you make of this?” said one of the police officers.

“Looks pretty straightforward,” the other one said. “Girl gets fed up, hops out her window and heads for the river. Seems pretty open-and-shut to me.”

Officer #1 held Heather’s ‘suicide note,’ and stood in the living room next to Officer #2. In the next room over, the dull murmur of conversation could be heard as Heather’s parents spoke to another cop.

“So, we about ready to pack it up?” asked Officer #1.

“Almost,” said Officer #2. “Just gotta wait for the inspector to finish inspecting the place.”

As if on cue, a dark figure descended the staircase, silhouetted by cigarette smoke. The figure was a tall man with a sturdy, but not quite muscular, build and distinguished cheekbones, and black hair that had begun to fade to grey. He wore a brown leather coat, and held a cigarette between his middle and index finger.

“Hey, Valentine, ya find anything?” asked Officer #2.

Inspector Valentine took a puff of his cigarette, exhaling the smoke to the side. “As a matter of fact, I did,” he said, his voice deep. “Actually, it’s more the lack of something that I found.”

“Yeah, the girl ain’t here, we know,” Officer #1 said. “It says in her note that she jumped in the river.”

“That isn’t exactly what I meant,” Valentine said. “When I asked the parents if anything was missing, they said that they couldn’t find one of their suitcases. Not only that, but several of the girl’s shoes and clothes are missing.”

“Okay, but...what does that mean?” asked Officer #2.

“Think about it--why would she need to bring a change of clothes with her if she was really going to commit suicide? Not only that, but the note specifically requests that we don’t go looking for her.”

“So, does that mean it’s case closed?” Officer #1 asked. But Valentine had already left into the other room.

Mr. and Mrs. Chandler both sat on a couch as a third officer stood nearby, pretending to look interested in their plight. Mr. Chandler had his arm around his wife, who was dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. She looked up as Valentine approached.

“Oh, Inspector, tell me you have something,” she said, her eyes red and her voice hoarse. “I can’t believe our little girl would do something like this…”

Valentine sat down in a nearby armchair, taking a quick puff from his cigarette. He looked up at the officer. “Max, could you give us a moment?”

“Don’t need to tell me twice,” Max said, stepping out of the room, and leaving the three of them alone.

“Mrs. Chandler, what I’m about to tell you is only guesswork on my part, so please don’t get your hopes up. But I believe, given the evidence I have collected, that this was not a suicide.”

“Not a suicide?” said Mr. Chandler. “Then who the hell left that note?”

“It still very well could have been your daughter,” Valentine continued. “However, given that she brought a suitcase full of several changes of clothes as well as toiletries with her, as well as requesting that we not look for her in the note, I believe that she meant to fake her suicide.” He held up a hand as Mrs. Chandler perked up. “Now, that’s not to say it’s guaranteed, but in my line of work, that’s the direction that situations like this one tend to go.”

“Why in--Why would she want to run away!?” asked Mr. Chandler. “She had friends, didn’t she? She got everything she asked for, didn’t she? What went wrong?”

“Maybe...maybe this is our fault,” Mrs. Chandler said, her tears returning.

“Mrs. Chandler, please don’t think like that,” said Valentine, placing his hands on hers. “Now listen: for the time being, I want you to leave things to me, understand? I will find out what happened to your daughter. You have my word.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year, y'all. I'd like to take this moment to mention that I have now seen the movie (got it for Christmas), so I will no longer need to rely on second-hand sources in that regard. Although, as I said before, this mostly follows the musical's canon, with a few major differences. Just a quick update.


	4. One Less Heather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the wake of Heather Chandler's 'suicide,' Veronica finds that someone may be on to her and JD's (and Heather's) plot.

Chapter Four: One Less Heather

* * *

News tended to travel fast around Sherwood. Even faster through the halls of Westerburg. By the very next day, it seemed like every student had gotten wind that cops had shown up at the Chandler household, and Heather wasn’t at school that day, so it didn’t take long for them to fill in the blanks.

Of course, the actual details of events were a bit...skewed. As Veronica waited for her next class to start, she heard more than a few conflicting accounts of events:

“Yeah, apparently they busted her for drugs,” one students said. “I heard it was opium, but April keeps insisting it was cocaine.”

“The guys are saying she ran off with her college boyfriend,” said another. “He picked her up last night, and they drove off to Florida together.”

“I saw some strange lights in the sky the other day,” yet another said. “You don’t think...you don’t think it was aliens, do you?”

Just because news traveled fast didn’t necessarily mean it traveled accurately.

Only a select few knew the ‘truth,’ which were the other two Heathers. And Veronica and JD were the only ones who knew the  _ true _ truth. Because of this, listening to the outrageous claims made by the student body--and a few by the teachers--was sort of amusing, in a macabre way. Well, it was for JD. As he stood beside Veronica, listening to the hearsay while trying to hide his grin, Veronica herself was wracked with...perhaps guilt wasn’t the right word. It wasn’t that she was worried she had done something wrong, quite the opposite. Nevertheless, she found herself overcome with something we all struggle with: fear of consequence.

Nearby, JD stifled a laugh. “Are you hearing some of this?” he asked her quietly. “‘Heather got involved with a gang.’ How do they come up with this shit? I mean, just the visual alone of Heather in a gang is...Hey, what’s the matter? You’re not still worried about this, are you?”

“Yes,” Veronica said. “I mean, no--I mean, sort of both, actually.” She tried to figure out a way to express it. “You don’t think that...Nobody suspects anything, right? What if someone figures out we were involved?”

“What, like one of these local yokels?” said JD. “Veronica, given the many, many theories I’ve heard so far, nothing short of telling someone outright will put them on our trail. And even then, that’s debatable. Gang Heather, remember?”

In spite of herself, Veronica couldn’t help but snicker at the image of Heather Chandler in a leather jacket with an oversized pompadour, brandishing a switchblade threateningly. Her mirth was short-lived, however. “But, her parents had to have called the cops, right? Heather and Heather both know by now, so they had to have heard it from somewhere. And that note--”

“--Doesn’t mention us in the slightest,” JD reminded her. “And the forgery looks just like her handwriting, so there’s no way to trace it back to you.”

“I know, but--”

“But nothing!” JD placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I keep telling you, there’s no way anyone finds out about this! And even if they do, it’s not like faking your suicide is a crime, right?”

“Right,” Veronica said. “Wait...it isn’t, right? Is it?”

“Of course not,” JD continued. “Worst case scenario, her parents will be a little ticked at us. But we never interact with them anyway, so what’s the big deal?”

“Heather and Heather might not be so happy with us either...” Veronica said.

“So? I thought you didn’t care what they thought,” JD said.

“Not... _ exactly _ ,” said Veronica. “I mean, we aren’t really friends--at least not  _ friends _ friends--but if I found out that someone helped my friend fake her death, I wouldn’t exactly appreciate them doing that.”

“Hey, this is for red Heather’s benefit, not theirs,” JD reminded her. “According to her, life sucks and everyone hates her, so this is to remind everyone what they’re missing. You never appreciate what you have until it’s gone, as they say.”

Veronica looked at him quizzically. “Who says that?”

JD shrugged. “ _ They _ do. Anyway, let’s lessen up on the doom and gloom. What are we doing tonight?”

Before Veronica could suggest the location of their celebratory date--for the record, she would have said the roller-rink--the familiar sound of an announcement rang out over the loudspeaker. After the tone, Principal Gowan’s voice sounded through the halls. “Would Veronica Sawyer, Heather Duke, and Heather McNamara please report to the principal’s office.”

There was more after that, but Veronica was too lost in thought to hear it. Her mind raced with possibilities--had someone figured it out? But then, why bring Heather and Heather into it? Why not JD? Of course--her handwriting! Someone must have pieced it together that she was involved! Heather and Heather were obviously character witnesses, being summoned to testify against her, and--

JD soon managed to shake her back to reality. “Veronica, you still in there?” he said. “You went into deer-in-the-headlights mode there for a second.”

“Someone figured it out, JD,” Veronica whispered. “I don’t know how, but that’s the only explanation. They must have seen us leaving, o-or heard someone say something, or--”

“Hey, relax,” JD said. “All this worrying can’t be good for your health, you know. Watch: Gowan probably just wants to give one of those speeches about how ‘I’m sure this is troubling for all of you’ or ‘You can always talk to someone if you need help’ or some crap like that.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that sounds right,” Veronica said, calming down a bit.

“And even if they  _ do _ suspect us, just play dumb. Tell them we were on a date last night, and you haven’t heard from Heather since the party, and we were nowhere near the Chandler place. Alright?”

“Alright,” Veronica said with a nod. “Better not keep them waiting.”

“And don’t mention a note,” JD reminded her as she headed to Gowan’s office. “They didn’t mention the note on the phone earlier.”

For all the worrying she was doing, Veronica figured Heather might as well have actually died. She couldn’t shake the feeling that this was going to lead to trouble--if it hadn’t already. The more logical part of her brain tried to remind her that JD was right. They hadn’t actually committed murder. Heather was alive and well; alive, in any case, currently squatting in Veronica’s coat closet. It wasn’t kidnapping, because she had come with her of her own free will. Besides, the alternative was that Heather actually killed herself. In spite of everything Veronica had put up with as a part of Heather’s gang, she didn’t want that. Hey, how about that? Heather really was a member of a gang, if you thought about it.

Soon enough, Veronica ran into the other two members of said gang. Heather Duke and Heather McNamara, still side-by-side even without their leader. “Hey, Heather. Heather,” Veronica said, trying to sound casual, but not too casual, given what had just happened.

McNamara kept walking as though she hadn’t heard her, but Duke turned around as Veronica caught up with them. “Hey,” she said. As always, the small girl had a book tucked under her arm. “So…” That one word pretty much summed everything up.

“Indeed,” Veronica replied. All in all, Duke seemed to be taking the whole thing remarkably well. She didn’t seem at all saddened by Chandler’s disappearance, but she wasn’t chipper, either. She was her typical mix of quietness and melancholy. For all Veronica knew, she was glad Chandler was gone.

And then there was McNamara. The tallest Heather was far quieter than she usually was. Instead of talking their ears off about this thing or that, which she would usually do when Chandler was absent, stared at the ground as she walked on. Veronica noticed that there was a redness to her eyes. She decided not to comment.

The three of them arrived at the principal’s office. Veronica held the door as they filed in, and were greeted with not only Gowan sitting at his desk as usual, but another figure as well. A man with greying hair wearing a leather coat was standing behind the desk, staring out the window in contemplation.

“Good afternoon, girls,” Gowan said solemnly. “Please, take a seat.” Veronica noticed that there were three chairs placed in front of his desk. She and the Heathers sat down, while Gowan seemed to struggle to find the right words. “Now...I know that this is... _ difficult _ .”

“Difficult?” said Veronica. “How so? I mean, they don’t know what happened yet, do they?”

McNamara looked up at her. “They didn’t tell you?” she said. “She left a note. She’s gone. Jumped in the river.” Her voice started to break. Duke stared at the floor.

“O-oh…” said Veronica. Evidently, they  _ had _ mentioned the note…

“Yes, well, that’s exactly why I wanted to talk to you,” Gowan continued. “I’m sure this is troubling for all of you. The three of you were all close to Heather, so this news must have been devastating. With tragedies like this, often the best way to move forward is to discuss your emotions. Remember, you can always talk to someone if you need help.”

“Excuse me, Principal Gowan?” said Duke. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but who is this?” She pointed at the man in the coat at the window.

“Ah, of course. I suppose this is as good a time as any,” Gowan said. “Girls, this is the man assigned to Heather Chandler’s case, Inspector Gaylord Valentine.”

From out of Duke’s throat came a sound not dissimilar to a cough mixed with a sneeze. Veronica recognized it as the noise she made in class whenever the teacher said something unintentionally amusing, and she couldn’t laugh outright lest she get reprimanded.

Inspector Gaylord maintained his stoic expression as he sat down in another chair next to the desk. However, Veronica could have sworn that the corner of his mouth twitched slightly. “Yeah, yeah, get it out of your system,” he said. “I’m glad my name could bring you such joy at a time like this.”

“Mr. Valentine?” asked McNamara. “You say you were assigned to Heather’s case. Why  _ is _ there a case? Shouldn’t something like this be...you know…?”

“Open and shut?” Valentine continued. “Yes, usually. You see, I get called in when cases like this come up. Or more accurately. I call myself in. I’m not a cop, but I work with them, especially when something like this happens.”

“‘Cases like this.’ So, suicide?” said Duke.

“Not exactly.” Valentine stood up, and began slowly pacing around the room. “Your friend certainly seems to be a very troubled girl. The note she left made that abundantly clear. However, evidence leads me to believe that while she may have left a suicide note, this wasn’t, in fact, a suicide.” It was slight, but McNamara perked up a bit at this news. “Now, that isn’t to say we know for sure. But some things are definitely out of place. For one, suicide, or any death, for that matter, tends to leave one very large piece of evidence behind--a body. And we have yet to find one.”

“Not even by the river?” asked Veronica.

“Combed the whole thing, couldn’t find so much as a hair,” he said. “What we did find, however, was an abandoned pair of shoes confirmed to belong to her. There were no footprints leading to the river, which leads me to believe that they were placed there purposefully to fool anyone who found them.”

“Y-you don’t think...that she could have been murdered, do you?” McNamara said.

“Unlikely,” said Valentine, “but not impossible. “For one thing, the note is unmistakably her own handwriting. Her parents confirmed it. There were no signs of a struggle, so it’s very likely she wrote it of her own volition.”

“None of this makes any sense…” said McNamara. “There’s no way Heather would do something like this. She would’ve told us if something was wrong...wouldn’t she?”

Valentine nodded solemnly. “From what I’ve heard, Heather was a very proud girl. She didn’t dare show any sign of anything that could be construed as weakness. That just makes this all the more tragic.” He placed both his hands into his coat pockets. “Of course, as I said, there is still hope. The reason I asked to speak with you three is because I know all of you are Heather’s closest friends. If any of you know anything about her whereabouts, or have any information at all, even if it’s something trivial, let me know immediately. Understand?” Both Heathers affirmed this, but Veronica stayed still and silent. “Is something wrong?” Valentine asked her.

“No, nothing,” Veronica said. “I haven’t heard anything. I haven’t heard from Heather since the Remington party the other day. I was actually on a date yesterday, so I wasn’t anywhere near her house.”

The inspector gave her an odd look, but otherwise didn’t pry. “...Alright then. Now, other than that you girls don’t have to worry about a thing. We’ll find her, don’t worry.”

“Thank you for your time, girls,” said Gowan. “That’ll be all for now. If you feel able, head to class. Otherwise, feel free to stay here a while longer if you need.”

In spite of his offer, the three of them headed out. “I can’t believe his nerve!” said Duke, once they were far enough away. “Why does all of a sudden, he act like Heather was the school sweetheart? He hated her, I just know it. It’s like he’s just trying to save face.”

“Aren’t you upset?” said McNamara. “About Heather, I mean.”

But Duke didn’t answer. “And he treats us like we’re in kindergarten! I can’t believe him, patronizing us like we’re, um...Veronica, help me out here.”

“Bunny rabbits,” Veronica said, barely paying attention. In her mind, she was more concerned with the fact that there was an honest-to-god inspector working on the case.

“Yeah, that,” said Duke. “Wait...do people patronize bunny rabbits? Is that a thing people do?”

“ _ I _ don’t patronize bunny rabbits,” said McNamara.

“Yeah, well, you don’t do a lot of things,” Duke said.

“I’m fucked,” Veronica said quietly.

Unfortunately, Duke heard her. “Hmm? What’d you say?” she asked.

“Oh, um...I said, ‘it’s fucked,’” Veronica said. “It’s fucked up how Gowan’s treating this whole thing.”

“It is,” said McNamara. “It’s like he doesn’t even care…”

For the rest of the day, Veronica focused less on her classes, and more on how she was going to dodge Valentine for the next...however long Heather was going to pretend to be dead. Shit, how long was this going to last?

* * *

“It’s me,” Veronica said, opening the door to her room, holding a plate in her hand. “It’s safe to come out.”

“Well, it’s about fucking time!” The door to her closet opened, revealing Heather Chandler hiding within. “Do you have any idea how  _ boring _ hiding in a closet all day is? There’s nothing to do, I lose track of time-- _ God _ , it’s like being in prison!”

“I’d make a ‘coming out of the closet’ joke, but such things are beneath me,” Veronica said, handing the plate to Heather. “Here. Figured you’d be hungry.” She flopped down on her bed, exhausted after all the worrying she had done that day.

“Starving,” Heather said. “At least twice, I was seriously considering sneaking down into the kitchen and--what the hell? What is this, liverwurst? Veronica, you can’t feed me this crap!”

“Don’t like it, don’t eat it,” Veronica answered. “I’m sorry this isn’t a five-star buffet. Besides, you can’t survive just on corn nuts and diet Coke.”

“First of all, I don’t drink Coke,” Heather said. “I’m a Pepsi-only girl. And second, I absolutely can.”

“Whatever, just stop complaining,” Veronica said. “You’ve got it easy, all you need to do is stay in there all day. Meanwhile, I’ve actually got the cops after me.”

“Guess your forgery skills aren’t as good as they used to be,” Heather said, taking a seat on the foot of the bed. “Did someone connect it to you?”

“Not yet, but I’m waiting for that shoe to drop,” said Veronica. “No, they figured out we’re faking, so they brought in some detective guy. Seriously, he looks straight out of a film noir, it’s almost comical. And get this--his name is, I’m not kidding, Inspector Gaylord Valentine.”

“Ouch,” said Heather. “I feel for him.” She thought for a moment. “Huh. ‘Valentine.’ That name sounds familiar somehow.”

“Names aside, he’s onto us,” Veronica continued. “So try and keep a low profile, okay?”

“I’m doing my best,” Heather said. “But it’s not like this is all on me. What happens if your mom comes up here to clean your room, and she opens the closet? What do I do then?”

“I dunno, just tell her you’re the magical goblin who lives in my closet,” Veronica suggested. “She’s gullible, she might believe it. Actually, it’s not that far off from reality.”

“You’re a real comedian, you know that?” Heather said, standing up. “Shit--they figured things out pretty quick, didn’t they?”

Veronica nodded. “You don’t know the half of it. They didn’t even fall for leaving your shoes by the river. And even if they did, Inspector Gaylord said it’s not official ‘til they find a body.”

“What the hell was even the point of telling them not to check the river?” asked Heather. She sighed. “I’m starting to think this was a bad idea.”

“You and me both.”

“Maybe I should’ve just gone through with it. Actually drank that stuff. It would’ve saved us all the trouble.”

“What, and take the coward’s way out?” said Veronica. “Come on. You’re Heather Chandler. You’re better than that.”

Heather grinned. “Goddamn right I am.” She turned back to face Veronica. “So, where do we go from here?”

“Beats the hell out of me,” Veronica said. “Depends on how long you want to keep everybody waiting.”

Heather thought about it for a moment. “Maybe a week or two,” she said. “Give everyone plenty of time to stew in their guilt. Speaking of which, do Heather and Heather miss me yet?”

“Heather definitely does,” Veronica said. “I think she might’ve been crying earlier.”

“How very,” Heather said. “And what about Heather?”

“Not as much.”

“Give her some time. She’ll break down in a few days, just watch. She doesn’t know how to function without me.”

“Neither does Heather,” said Veronica. “Aren’t you worried what’ll happen without you?”

“They have you, don’t they?” Heather said. “Just keep them from doing anything stupid until I decide to end this charade. You’re smart, they look up to you.”

“I’ll see what I can--wait, really?” said Veronica.

“Oh, sure, sure,” Heather said. “They’re like little kids, both of them. They need someone to cling to. Just wait, in a few days, you’ll be the one calling the shots.” She narrowed her eyes, glaring at Veronica. “But when I say it’s over, I’m back on top. Understand?”

“Whatever. I’m not really cut out for leadership anyway,” said Veronica.

“Could’ve fooled me,” said Heather.

For about a minute, the two of them sat in silence. After a while, Heather spoke again.

“So,” she said. “You think this Gaylord guy lives up to his name?”

Veronica rolled her eyes. “Apparently, such things aren’t beneath you.”


End file.
